almost killed your light
by galactics
Summary: darling, your heartbeat is his favorite song. / cam&claire / for the Teddy Bear Challenge


darling, your heartbeat is his favorite song. / cam&claire / for the Teddy Bear Challenge

**For: **13' Teddy Bear Competition/Challenge; Coppertone Wars forum

**Choice: **2

**Prompts: **acrobatic, "far worse than clichés", the rocking chair

**Pairing: **cam/claire (if you know me by now, clam is my weakness, okay? okay.)

**A/N: **god I don't know how the flip I'm going to include 'acrobatic'. I'll figure it out.

the title is a lyric from Safe And Sound by Taylor Swift.

well, hope you like it. that's all.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Clique, prompts, or any companies/brands mentioned.

* * *

**almost killed your light**

.

There are some days when Claire Lyons never leaves her navy fluff bed, when she stays curled up in her usual ball through breakfastlunchanddinner. Her normally lively, blue _('they're almost white')_ eyes lose their spark, and are replaced by pools of dull emptiness. She doesn't think about anything certain, or look at anything specific, because none of that matters to her; the wall suddenly becomes the most interesting thing in her life. After awhile, her hands begin cramping from resting under the side of her face for so long, however, she ignores it. Honey Dew is her weakness; she's at the drive through nearly every morning, but sometimes she's not. The days she doesn't care- those are the bad days.

Once in awhile, with the radio blasting _('that breakout singer') _Cam's new song, her mind turns pure white and flashes back to when he was there. Cam doesn't mean to leave her, of course, and Claire has no intention of tying him down to home. Singing has always been his dream, and she would never be so selfish and take that away from him.

There was never really a first time she understood that they won't always be a fairytale, the idea was graduate, one that she tried her best to ignore. It was somewhat of a twisted dream, she thinks, that they would always be that couple with their hands intertwined and lazily sneaking glances at each other. That's everyone's thoughts of the future, that nothing will ever change because its ohso impossible to think of things being different. While laying alone, sometimes, Claire glances down and sees Cam's tan hands gripping hers, but they're not really there; she just wants them to be. Visions of what she needs replace reality, so much to the point it's hard to believe otherwise.

The old fashioned, white telephone's ring breaks through the silence throughout her house. Claire waits for two long rings to pass before sliding out of the bed, her woven blanket wrapped around her slender shoulders. Usually she wastes no time in talking to him, all the way from Los Angeles, but something has slipped in her mind today.

"Claire?" Cam's smooth voice asks immediately after the two lines connected. He sounds worried, but Claire doesn't want to be pitied.

"Hey.." she knows her response sounds forced, "I was just thinking about you." Claire never was the type to act forlorn, but now it's different. She's different. They're different.

"I have a surprise for you." he says.

Straightening up immediately, pictures brandish by and hope consumes her. Hope, with a flicker of undeniable nerves. Without looking, her gaunt hands feel around the side table next to her, trying to find the one thing that reminds her he _does_ love her. Worn fleece daintily touches her fingertips, and Claire looks down. A teddy bear; home-sewn, with a considerable attempt. Its fur is a deep beige; beady, black buttons with smoothed ridges for eyes stare her down every time she looks at it. Ebony string is stitched on as a mouth, curved in a wicked, insane smile. In a way, Claire hates the bear- it's nothing but a remembrance of what she can't let go of.

The stuffed animal is tattered from times she'd like to forget _('the bad_ _days')_, when the reasonable solution was taking her anger for Cam out on his gift for her. He had made it himself on their third-year anniversary, claiming it was a step up from his serenade a few years before. She remembers his sheepish expression, his blush, but his pride that he had managed to sew something.

Claire clutches the bear in both of her hands, leaning the phone between her shoulder and her ear. Before she's able to retort, the doorbell echoes throughout her too big (for one) house.

A timid figure, a good four inches taller than her, stands on the doorstep with his hands nervously shifting in his pockets. It's Cam- but the old Cam. His face breaks out in a wide grin, and Claire can't help but smile too.

She wastes no time in getting to him; after months of waiting and sulking, he's here. Her arms wrap securely around his defined torso, and she's disappointed to find herself weeping into his chest.

Cam looks down, whispering, "What's with the tears?" in the kindest voice a phrase like that could be said. Claire wants to tell him everything- how she hasn't left the house in over a week, how she sometimes thinks he's there- but she can't. Instead, she merely shakes her head as best she can while sobbing, and curls up her arms between the two of them.

"If beauty were time.." he tilts her chin up so she can look at him, "You'd be eternity." his smile is wide, and the two of them attempt to look serious while truly fighting back guffaws. Claire breaks the silence, at first with a small giggle, but leading to hysterics of laughter. He still hasn't let her go, and Claire has a feeling he doesn't intend to, even through their cackles.

"You're so cliché..." she trails off, a loose grin still hanging on the sides of her lips _('that mischievous grin')._ Her fingers play with his Polo collar and she stares at his collar bones.

Leaning down to leave a small kiss on her temple, he murmurs, barely audible, "We're far worse than clichés, love."

.

_('look at their eyes; they look dazed, don't they?')_

_._

Leftover wafts of homemade pancake batter find its way to Claire Lyons nose, which brings a smile to her face. It's been too long since she's eaten anything other than takeout; she's missed Cam Fisher's famous breakfasts. The last time she had had them was the right before Cam had left for Los Angeles, when he took her to a circus to see the lions, acrobatic acts, and clowns. And on that day, he had told her he loved her for the first time.

Cam slips into the chair across from where Claire is sitting, holding two plates, each with an overdone pancake pile complete with strawberries and whipped cream. Gently sliding the plate across the table to her, he notices Claire, her elbow propped up and her chin in her hand, with a gloomy expression.

"What's wrong?" he probes, shoving a piece of pancake into his mouth. His eyebrows scoot together, which Claire's noticed is his habit when he's nervous or worried. She forces a smile, which is better than making him concerned, and shakes her head.

"I just missed you, that's all." And in a way, that _is_ all, nothing else would be bothering her if she didn't miss Cam this much. Trying to convince herself of this is somewhat useless, even if it's partly true, because Claire knows he sees right through the statement. "How was California?" she asks.

Cam hesitates. "It was..." he pauses, searching for the right word, "It was tolerable, I guess. Kind of lonely, though—I missed you too." He looks in her eyes, pupil to pupil, and Claire blushes _('she never had stopped falling in love with him, anyway'). _She picks through her breakfast, as delicious as it is.

Cam sighs, looking up, "Claire, what's really wrong?"

She freezes, singling out the familiar torn-up bear on the table island from across the room. It glares at her, and to her, the room goes absolutely silent. The teddy bear's button eyes merely stare at her, justher; blaming her for everything that has ever went wrong in life. Claire squeezes her eyes shut, so tight they form crevices, to get away. The silence becomes a cringe worthy, high pitched ringing, and even with her hands over her ears, it seeps through every pore in her skin and is deafening torture. She's scared now; something's happening to her and she has no idea what it is, much less how to get rid of it. It started with the longing, but it grew from that.

"Claire!" he's scared now, and she can tell by the shaking in his voice; her eyes stay shut and her ears stay covered. The sound of his feet hitting the wooden flooring as he rounds the table isn't sharp, it echoes, all the sounds are echoing now. The ear-splitting ring is now a buzz, and it hurts her; her head hits her knees, her body wracking with sobs.

After what seems like forever, but only being a split second, his arms wrap themselves around her, but she doesn't know whether or not it's real. Reality mixes with imagination now, because this could just be fake to her, and she's falling apart with every breath.

/she missed him too much .

.

_('when she's alone, she's a hollow version of herself, but sometimes it stays.')_

_._

She wakes up in warmth.

All of the anxiety is somewhat gone—but without a doubt it's going to return sometime, somewhere. The bedroom is softly lit, and only noise heard is the dull creak_creak _of the rocking chair, back and forth. And it turns out Cam _is_ there after all; she's actually propped his lap, her head tucked under his chin. His hands run through her slightly mangled platinum hair, and time slows.

"Claire?"

"Cam?"

From underneath, she feels him crack a small grin and wrap his arms tighter around her. "You feeling okay?" he whispers, and Claire is—in a way— in fact okay. She nods, knowing _he_ knows because he's like that.

"Claire, I love you." He looks down, and the decelerating time stops completely, with a jolt; because every time he says he loves her, she fills up a little more. From across the room, the teddy bear sits, its ragged fur freshly matted and its raven eyes newly polished. Its grin is still menacing, but there's something else to it; a trace of normality, of hope. He'll always be dodging paparazzi beneath picturesque palm trees, and she'll always be home with a desire for affection. But he'll always come back to her, and she'll always accept him for it.

.

_('and he'll carry her, her world, and her hurt.')_

_._

* * *

**/ahem**

oh gosh, this should be way longer and better. I hope you liked it nonetheless.

(I can't stop listening to the song Royals by Lorde by the way.)

everybody go check out dancing as the stars shine's multi-chap Wildfire, if you haven't. like mine, it's a clique/hunger games fic, but hers is AU and she followed the rules and put it in the crossover section haha. you NEED to read it, there's three chapters up currently but it's active. you actually don't have a choice whether or not you read it because you are. so head over to the crossover section, now. (the couples are canon; dm/cc/ja/cd/kk)

again if you haven't, please vote on the new poll in my bio, to determine my next multi-chap. shank ya :)

**Lily**


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